I was born in the countryside of north Georgia. A house on twelve acres is where I lived for most of my life. With two big pastures a barn full of horses and a coop full of chickens, it was all peace and quite. Around the age of seven is when my dad first taught me how to ride a dirt bike. I had a four wheeler before then. Unfortunetly, when they flip ontop of you on a mountainside and almost killing you, your parents end up selling it pretty quickly. Once I learned how to ride the dirt bike, I started making trails in the woods behind our house. I loved making the trails. The endless options I had on where to go, felt great. I would rush home from school just to be able to find a new path to ride on. Eventually, I made a trail leading to this big oak tree with the rest of the area around it cleared out. This became the tree that I would go to and unwind from the day. It was my own personal vacation spot that I only showed to my best friends. Over time, my friends sold their bikes and we all went our separate ways. I started to go to the tree less and less and eventually forgot how to get back to it. In highschool my buddy Hendo and I would try to go back their and find it. We searched and searched, and eventually we believed that we found it. The old tree had fallen over and crushed everything in its path. Later that year I had to move into the northern suburbs of Atlanta and much like the tree it seemed like it was time to move on and create a new path and make some new memories.